“Well, mind; you must brace up your nerves,” he answered, as he pushed open the gate, and led her down the crumbling sandy incline.
The heat within the hut was almost suffocating; as the girl, following her guide, entered, every eye was instantly fixed upon her in wide surprise.
By the light of a small earthen lamp, which smoked horribly, she distinguished the figure of a man crouching on the edge of a charpoy; he was breathing in hard hoarse gasps, and bleeding from a great gash above his eye.
A Eurasian, in a checked cotton suit, stood by, talking incessantly—but doing nothing else. There were also present, besides the old woman—a veritable shrivelled-up hag—two native men, possibly the “bhai-bands,” or chums of the sufferer; in a corner, a large black pariah sat watching everything, with a pair of unwinking yellow eyes; and on another charpoy lay a still figure, covered with a sheet. A few earthen chatties, a mat, a huka, and some gaudy English prints—for the most part nailed upside down—completed the picture. Hitherto the travelling companions had been to each other merely the embodiment of an undefined figure and a voice; the light of the little mud lamp, whose curling smoke threw outlines of dancing black devils on the walls, now introduced them for the first time face to face. To Honor Gordon stood revealed an unexpectedly good-looking young man, slight and well built, with severely cut features, and a pair of handsome hazel eyes, which were surveying her gravely. A gentleman, not merely in his speech and actions, but in his bearing.
He, on his part, was not in the least surprised to behold a pale but decidedly pretty girl; by means of some mysterious instinct he had long made up his mind that the owner of such a delicate hand and sweet clear voice could not be otherwise than fair to see.
“The apothecary cannot be here for one hour!” exclaimed the Eurasian, glibly. “He,” pointing to the patient, “is very bad. We have put some herbs to his arm, and the back of his head; but I, myself, think that he will die!” he concluded with an air of melancholy importance.
Some kind of a bandage was the first thing Honor asked for, and asked for in vain; she then quickly unwound the puggaree from her topee, and tore it into three parts.
Then she bathed and bandaged the man’s head, with quick and sympathetic fingers, whilst Jervis held the lamp, offered suggestions, and looked on, no less impressed than amazed; he had hitherto had an idea that girls always screamed and shrank away from the sight of blood and horrors.
This girl, though undeniably white, was as cool and self-possessed, as firm, yet gentle, as any capable professional nurse.
The scalded arm and hand—a shocking spectacle—were attended to by both. The great thing was to exclude the air, and give the sufferer at least temporary relief. With some native flour, a bandage was deftly applied, the arm placed in a sling, and the patient’s head was bathed with water and eau-de-Cologne. Fanned assiduously by the girl’s fan, he began to feel restored, he had been given heart, he had been assured that his hurts were not mortal, and presently he languidly declared himself better.